


You're the Cream in My Coffee

by schweet_heart



Series: Merlin Fic [89]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Flirting, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Banter, Coffee Shops, Explicit Language, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Idiots in Love, M/M, Seduction Through Coffee, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, not a morning person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-05 00:12:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12782685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schweet_heart/pseuds/schweet_heart
Summary: In which Arthur is not a morning person, but Merlin decidedly is, and Gwaine (regardless) makes terrible coffee.Based onthistumblr post.





	You're the Cream in My Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> **Credits:**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Title from [this hilarious song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=21yzXbPGhWc).
> 
> Prompt: 
> 
> I want to open a really angry coffee shop called “I’m Not a Morning Person” and name all the drinks really angrily
> 
> like “can I get a Fuck You” or a “I’m Studying for Finals” or “My In-Laws are in Town”
> 
> and they all have shots of tequila in them
> 
> who wants to be my business partner
> 
>  **Warning:** Crude/offensive language and off-colour jokes. I blame Gwaine; he's a terrible influence.

 

“I'll have one Fuck You and a Stop Smiling Before I Punch You in the Face, please.”

 

Merlin glanced up when he heard the order, amused as he always was by the creative (and frequently downright offensive) names Gwaine had given his drinks. When Merlin had first started working at the café a few months ago, he’d found it difficult to get used to hearing people regularly order Fuck Me Gently’s and Death with a Side of Chocolate, but these days he took it all in stride. Nevertheless, when he caught sight of the man across the counter from him he couldn’t help doing an unsubtle double-take. Not only was their newest customer tall, blond and gorgeous, he was also wearing an exquisitely tailored suit that looked like it cost more than Merlin made in a month — nothing like the down-and-out college students that were _Not a Morning Person_ ’s usual clientele.

 

“Excuse me, did you hear me?” The blond man demanded, rapping sharply on the counter to get Merlin’s attention. “One Fuck You and one—”

 

“Yeah, I heard you,” Merlin interrupted, the polite smile sliding rapidly off his face. “Is the first one for you? Because it’s the perfect choice, if I do say so myself.”

 

The man sputtered. “What? You can’t talk to a customer like that.”

 

“I’m afraid I can,” Merlin said, pointing to the sign above the counter which read, _We reserve the right to be pissed off between the hours of 6am and whenever the fuck we feel like it_. Gwaine was particularly proud of that little innovation. “House policy. Didn’t you see the sign?”

 

Blondie scowled. “That’s ridiculous,” he said. “This whole place is ridiculous. How do you even stay in business?”

 

Merlin just shrugged. He’d wondered about that from time to time himself, but he wasn’t about to let Blondie McPraterson know that. “The kids like us.”

 

The man snorted and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “ _Idiots_ ,” before digging in his pocket for his wallet. “Just tell me how much for the bloody drinks.”

 

“Wow, you really _aren’t_ a morning person, are you?” Merlin commented. He rang up the order and passed it on to Elena, who began assembling the ingredients while he handed over the Eftpos machine to take the payment.

 

“No. I’m not. My regular coffee shop just closed down, I have a horrible meeting to go to and this god damn barista won’t stop fucking _smiling_ at me.”

 

Merlin stretched his grin wider, just on principle. “Unlike apparently everyone else on the planet, I enjoy being up before 9am. Sorry.”

 

“You are not,” the man said, but in spite of himself his bad mood seemed to be wavering. Merlin could have sworn he saw the corner of his mouth twitch, just a little. “Do you drink coffee?”

 

The non-sequitur made Merlin blink. “Er, sure. Occasionally.”

 

“Tell you what, then,” the man said, and he was definitely looking pleased about something. “Let me buy you a Please Stop Smiling of your very own to make up for being such a curmudgeonly git.”

 

Merlin couldn’t help laughing out loud at that. “Wow, words of four syllables _and_ a passive-aggressive offer of coffee. How could I refuse?”

 

“Does that mean you accept?”

 

Merlin hesitated. The man was rude, and impatient, but also well fit and at least he had apologised, sort of. Also, Merlin worked at a coffee shop which made its living off those who were grumpy bastards before they had their morning shot of caffeine. It would hardly be fair of him to blame them for the very traits which were their stock in trade.

 

“All right,” he said, thinking what the hell. “What name should I write on the cup?”

 

This time, the other man’s smile was so brilliant it lit up the entire room. “Arthur,” he said. “I’m Arthur.”

 

“And I’m Merlin,” Merlin said, unable to resist smiling back. “Pleased to meet you, Arthur.”

 

 

 

 

 

Arthur came back the next week, and the next. Each time he gave the same order, and purchased a coffee for Merlin as well, which he accepted reluctantly at first and finally with genuine bemusement and not a little confusion. One he could probably have written off as a joke or a backhanded insult, hell, even just an apology, like Arthur said. Three times was beginning to amount to a flirtation, however, especially since Arthur always made sure to come a bit early so that he could stand and trade insults with Merlin for a few minutes while he waited for his coffee.

 

On the fourth week, when Arthur came in early _again_ even though it was a weekend, Merlin took one look at him and blurted, “Why don’t you order something different this morning? Just for a change.”

 

Arthur raised his eyebrows at him. “Are you saying I’m getting predictable, _Mer_ lin?” he asked, stressing the first syllable of Merlin’s name in a way that made him flush.

 

“Just a bit,” he said, biting back a smile at Arthur’s expression. “I mean, it’s fine if you like your coffee black and bitter—”

 

“Like my sister’s soul,” Arthur interjected.

 

“—like your sister’s soul.” Merlin rolled his eyes at him. “But, I don’t know, there are lots of other options, if you’re interested.”

 

Arthur looked at him for a long moment, with an expression that suggested he was trying, and failing, to figure Merlin out. Finally he shrugged and leaned against the counter, looking up at the list of beverages on the chalk board above Merlin’s head.

 

“All right,” he said slowly. “I’ll have, erm…”

 

His eyes ran over the list, and Merlin saw his eyebrows shoot up as they rested on a particular name. A wicked grin spread slowly across his face, and Merlin braced himself, inwardly cursing his own stupid mouth. And Gwaine. It always came back to Gwaine, somehow.

 

“I’ll have a Suck It Special, with extra cream, please.”

 

Merlin choked. “Did you just—?” he spluttered. “You made that up.”

 

“No, I didn’t,” Arthur said, pointing. “It’s right there on the board.”

 

Merlin checked, and yes, Gwaine really was a horrible person. Not that this was new information, but Merlin was going to have to reconsider his choice of best mate now, because this was going above and beyond. He looked back at Arthur. “Are you serious?”

 

“Deadly,” Arthur said, smirking. He looked deliberately at Merlin’s mouth, then looked him up and down in a slow, lingering way that left absolutely no doubt as to his meaning. “If you feel up to it, of course.”

 

Merlin shook his head as he moved to fulfil the order, deeply bewildered at the strange turn his life had taken, and only stopped when he realised that Arthur’s expression had dimmed slightly, obviously taking this as a rejection.

 

“That is the worst attempt at flirting I’ve ever heard,” Merlin said, quite seriously. Arthur opened his mouth, no doubt drawing breath to protest, so Merlin hurried on. “Which is why I can’t possibly allow you to inflict it on anyone else. My shift finishes at half five, if you want to grab a bite after.”

 

“I’ll be waiting outside,” Arthur said, his entire face softening into something sweet and genuine. “And counting the minutes.”

 

Merlin laughed. “All right then,” he said, pleased. “But I warn you, I don’t actually put out on the first date.”

 

“Neither do I,” Arthur replied with a shrug. “My choice in drinks notwithstanding. It was really just an excuse to watch you blush,” he added, looking slightly abashed. “Your ears go all red when you get flustered, it’s hilarious.”

 

“Hey, watch it,” Merlin said, mock scowling. “I could still switch you to decaf.”

 

“Good Lord, don’t do that,” Arthur said, eyes widening. “I have a meeting with my father today, I’ll never survive without caffeine.”

 

“You really are an addict, aren’t you?”

 

“Guilty.” Arthur grimaced. “It’s Morgana’s fault. She talked me into working for the family business after graduation, and I hate it. I need at least ten cups of coffee just to get through the day. Twelve, when my father’s involved.”

 

Merlin’s eyebrows lifted. “Sounds delightful,” he said. “What do you do, murder puppies and make coats from their skins?”

 

Arthur laughed.

 

“No, I’m in the publishing business.” He glanced down at the cup of coffee in Merlin’s hand, then back up at his face, looking almost shy. “My father is Uther Pendragon. Of Pendragon Publishing?”

 

“Oh.” Merlin forgot what he was doing for a moment and stared, aware that he was being rude and possibly creepy but unable to care because _holy shit_. Arthur-the-Prat was in fact Arthur _Pendragon_ , heir to one of the largest publishing conglomerates in the business. Not that Merlin knew much about the field, aside from things he’d picked up here and there, but fuck. He’d been flirting with a bona fide billionaire. “Oh my god.”

 

Arthur shifted his weight a little, teeth catching at his bottom lip. “Look,” he said. “If you think this is going to be a problem—”

 

“No,” Merlin said immediately. “No, sorry, I just — wow. Good for you, then.”

 

Arthur grinned crookedly at him. “Yeah, good for me,” he said. “Having the good sense to be born with a silver spoon in my mouth.”

 

Merlin snorted. “Would that all of us had your foresight.” He capped the frothy concoction he’d created and slid it across the counter. “That’ll be £3.50, thanks. See you tonight?”

 

“Five thirty sharp.” Arthur nodded. He picked up the coffee and took a sip, and choked a little as the flavour hit his tongue. “Oh my god, what _is_ this?”

 

“The drink you ordered,” Merlin said innocently. “Extra sweet Irish coffee with a double shot of whipped cream, isn’t that right?”

 

The expression on Arthur’s face was more than enough to keep Merlin grinning for the rest of his shift.

 

 

 

 

 

By the time Merlin had finished wiping down the counters and locking up after himself, it was nearly quarter to six, and for a moment he worried that Arthur wasn’t coming or had decided he was being stood up and already gone home. No sooner had he finished locking the door, however, than he heard someone call his name, and Arthur was jogging down the footpath towards him.

 

“Hey,” Arthur said, smiling at him. He'd changed since that afternoon, out of the swanky business suit and into a more casual — though still unfairly attractive — pair of jeans and a soft blue shirt that brought out the colour of his eyes. His hair was slightly damp, indicating the he’d showered as well, and Merlin immediately felt grungy and underdressed. He wiped his palms surreptitiously on his jeans.

 

“Hey,” he replied, slightly breathless. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

 

Arthur waved away the apology. “No problem. I walked past earlier and saw you were closing up, so I figured I’d wait in outside. Didn’t want you to feel crowded, since I’ve kind of developed a habit of invading your workplace lately.”

 

“I don't mind," Merlin said honestly. He smiled a little. “Who else would I get to torment with my unbearably cheerful face at seven am?”

 

“Well, there’s always your other customers. I’m fairly sure they’re not morning people either.”

 

“True,” Merlin said. “But they don’t insult me by buying me coffee or order drinks with terrible names in order to ask me to go out with them.”

 

Arthur ducked his head, but he was grinning. "It seemed like a good idea at the time,” he said. “Have to admit, I kind of regretted it when I tasted that coffee, though. Why the fuck is the even on the menu? Do people regularly drink coffee that awful?”

 

“Actually, I think it’s Gwaine's unsubtle method of self-promotion," Merlin admitted, shaking his head. “He’s Irish, surprisingly sweet and likes to think he’s good in bed. Hence—”

 

“The Suck It Special," Arthur finished, nodding. He wrinkled his nose. “Why are you working for this guy again?”

 

“He's my best mate,” Merlin said. “Has been since secondary school. He’s a bit of a wanker, and he has terrible taste in coffee, but he’s got my back where it counts. When he heard I was looking for work he offered me a position at the café straight off, despite the fact that I am, in fact, a morning person.”

 

“Sounds like a good guy.” Arthur studied him for a moment, but apparently decided not to pursue the topic. Instead, he held out his arm to Merlin and tilted his head in the direction of a side street half a block away. “Shall we? There's a station just around the corner.”

 

Merlin smiled, taking his arm. “Do I get to know where we're going, or is it a surprise?”

 

“I was going to go with something traditional — say, pizza and a movie? But we can do something else, if you like.”

 

“Pizza and a movie sounds perfect,” Merlin said sincerely. “Lead on, MacDuff!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Arthur, it turned out, was actually kind of brilliant. Not only was he completely gorgeous, but he was funny, and smart, and really easy to talk to. Merlin had been a little worried that he was some kind of crazy stalker (given the coffee-buying) or an inveterate snob (given the sheer, staggering, mind-bending amount of wealth his family possessed), but to his relief Arthur showed no sign of being either. He _was_ kind of an arrogant prat at times, and they spent most of the dinner arguing over whether _Jurassic World_ was as good as the original — Merlin said no, Arthur thought they were _both_ terrible, though he admitted to having seen all the sequels anyway — but all in all it was one of the most enjoyable evenings he’d had in a long time.

 

“Well, this is me," Merlin said, when Arthur finally walked him to the front door of his building at the end of the night. “I’d invite you up for coffee, but, well, given where we met that would seem kind of redundant.”

 

“You could invite me up for something else,” Arthur suggested, raising his eyebrows, and Merlin slapped him playfully on the arm.

 

“I told you, not on the first date.”

 

Arthur just shrugged. “What about the second date?”

 

Merlin wavered, but only for a moment. “I have a three date rule,” he said primly. “And before you ask, buying me terribly named coffee because you’re too chicken to ask me out does _not_ count as a date.”

 

Arthur laughed. “Fine,” he said. “I guess that means I’m going to have to ask you out again sometime soon.”

 

“You just want to get into my pants.”

 

“Can you blame me?”

 

Merlin looked down at himself for a moment, then shook his head solemnly. “They _are_ very nice pants.”

 

This made Arthur laugh again, and he tugged Merlin closer, leaning in so that their foreheads bumped together. “May I at least kiss you?” he asked softly. “Or do you have a rule about that, too?”

 

Merlin smiled. “No, I think I can deal with kissing on the first date,” he said, widening his eyes mock thoughtfully. “But I like that you asked.”


End file.
